The Christ
by Catslynw
Summary: Dean learns something a little unexpected about the impact of Jesus on his own life. Set between ep. 5-9, Changing Channels and ep. 5-10, Abandon All Hope. One shot.


The Christ

_*Set after The Real Ghostbusters._

The only diners they'd passed on the way into town had been dingy and daunting, even by Dean's low roadside food standards, so they'd pulled the Impala into a shopping center that had a small Italian restaurant tucked out of sight just around its back corner. They only knew it was there because they'd passed through this town before, and Dean had spent a very memorable evening with one of the waitresses from DiNeri's. Last he'd heard, Marie was now happily married, so he doubted she'd be holding a grudge if she happened to be working tonight. It was late, Dean was hungry and DiNeri's was good food even if he would have to go for something other than his customary bacon cheeseburger.

They were pulling into a parking space, Sam driving with his usual cautious granny style, when a voice spoke unexpectedly behind them. "Dean, I must speak with you." Sam slammed on the brake so hard that Dean would have gone through the windshield if they'd been going more than five miles per hour. They both swung around in their seats and peered into the back of the car. It was Castiel. Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation and then immediately turned back to the wheel, inching the car the rest of the way into the parking space.

"Dude, how many times have I told you not to do that?" Dean complained, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand.

"Seven, but I need to speak with you."

"How did you even find us? You haven't called us in over four hours."

"I knew which road you were on from our earlier conversation, and I know the approximate speed at which Sam normally drives. It was easy enough to locate a 1967 Impala in the correct area under those circumstances."

Dean blinked. "What if somebody else on this road had a classic Impala and you'd just popped in on them by mistake?" he asked, amused by the thought.

"I imagine they would be very startled," Castiel replied, deadpan. Dean rolled his eyes.

"What do you need, Cas?" Sam asked, turning off the engine and pocketing the keys.

"I need to speak with Dean." He turned his gaze from Dean to Sam. "With both of you," he amended.

"Is it urgent?"

"Time is a factor," Castiel urged.

"Cas, time is always a factor. Is the world going to end if Sam and I stop and eat first?"

"It seems unlikely."

"Good, cause I'm starving."

They got out of the car and headed into the restaurant, Castiel trailing after them. The place was small, booths lining the walls and tables packed closely together on the floor, but it was also nearly closing time and only one table was occupied. Red and white checkered tablecloths with plastic backing covered every flat surface. The walls were decorated in chintzy Italiano: pictures of grapes, sculptures of grapes, plastic grapes hanging from the light fixtures. Interspersed with the grapes were pictures of Catholic saints and martyrs. Homey, Dean thought as the server led them to their booth. Dean and Sam sat across from each other and Castiel, to Dean's surprise, squeezed in next to his brother.

Dean ordered the homestyle lasagna, family size and an extra tub of garlic butter for the restaurant's fresh sourdough. Sam ordered the minestrone and angel hair pasta tossed with fresh-grilled vegetables. The kid seriously needed to eat more protein. The server eyed Castiel curiously when he declined to order so much as water, but Dean just grinned and batted his eyelashes at her, and she walked away with an extra swish in her gait and a smile on her lips. While they waited for the food to arrive, Dean let his eyes drift over the paintings nearest them as he listened to Sam and Castiel discuss the recent string of Madonna sightings in southwest Texas and New Mexico. Castiel insisted that there was nothing to it, mere human hysteria, but Sam seemed to think it might be worth looking into. He rambled on about all the potential supernatural phenomena that could mimic a holy visitation until Dean interrupted with a question that he realized he'd been pondering for some time.

"Hey, Cas, did you ever meet Jesus?"

Sam stopped speaking in mid-word. Both the Winchesters watched the angel silently, realizing that his lack of immediate denial had to mean something interesting was in store. Castiel considered the question for several long seconds, his gaze seeming to turn inward. Finally, he locked eyes with Dean and cautiously said, "Yes. I have."

Sam's eyes widened until Dean thought they might pop right out of his head. "Seriously? You really met Jesus? The actual guy?" The angel nodded. "When?" Sam demanded.

"Once when he lived among you as a human and once more after his resurrection," Castiel replied gravely.

"Holy…" Dean's brother trailed off, clearly astonished by this news.

"Yes," Castiel agreed.

"What was he like?" Dean asked, intrigued by the notion that Jesus had really lived. After all, Cas was the one who kept pointing out that the Bible got more wrong than it got right.

"Why do you ask?"

Dean's eyebrows climbed. "Why wouldn't I ask? How many people can actually get a first-hand account of what the Big Kahuna was like? So come on, spill."

"But Dean, why do you ask me to describe the Christ when you have met him yourself?"

Silence reigned. Their server returned and placed their orders before them. When she asked if they needed anything else, Dean just waved her away, never taking his eyes of the angel who gazed back at him solemnly. No one ate. Castiel barely seemed to breathe and Dean's own chest felt tight. This was nuts. Seriously, this was freakin' nuts.

"Dude, I have never met Jesus."

"But you have. I can sense his mark upon you."

"Come on man, I'm pretty sure I'd remember something like that. Besides, I thought Earth had been off-limits until I got broken out of Hell. No human/angel interaction, right?"

"Off-limit to angels for the last 2000 years, yes, but the Christ has been here, walking amongst you all along." Castiel made it sound so reasonable, as if discussing Jesus walking around in a pair of Nike's wasn't just this side of seriously mental.

"Cas, I've seen pictures of Jesus, and I'm pretty sure I never met that guy."

Before Castiel could reply, Sam broke in with an exasperated sigh. "Dean, those pictures are just guesses, artistic representations of what people think he might have looked like. You couldn't actually recognize him from any of those." He turned to the angel. "Right, Cas?"

"You are correct, Sam. However, even if the depictions you mention were accurate, it still would not guarantee that you would recognize the Christ if you met him. I believe he seldom wears the same body for any length of time."

Dean's jaw dropped. "Are you saying that Jesus possesses people?!"

"Of course not," Castiel retorted, clearly shocked and offended by the very idea. "The Christ is a powerful spirit, far more powerful than any angel. He may manifest in any form he chooses, human, animal or otherwise."

"Hebrews 13:1-2. Thereby some have entertained angels unawares," Sam said, half under his breath.

Castiel looked ceilingward. "I told you, the Christ is not an angel."

"I was just making a comparison, Cas," Sam said, frowning and rolling his eyes at the angel's evident exasperation.

"I understand that, but – "

Dean cut him off. "So when did I meet him?"

"I don't know. I only know that I can sense him when I am near you."

"I'm… marked?"

"Yes."

"Dude, you make it sound like he's a dog who lifted his leg and peed on me."

"Dean! That is hardly an appropriate – " The angel's voice was rising dangerously, but he stopped speaking when Sam broke in with a question of his own.

"Have I met him, too?"

"I do not believe so," Castiel replied grudgingly.

Sam's face fell, clearly disappointed. The kid was always looking for some sign that Heaven approved of him, that the demon blood he'd been fed as a baby hadn't turned him into a creature that even Heaven could not love. He rallied quickly, however. "Okay, so if I didn't meet him, then Dean probably met him when we were separated, either when I was at college or when we split up after… after Lucifer rose."

Castiel considered this for a moment. "No," he said at last. "The mark I sense is older than that, most likely from childhood."

Dean racked his brain, trying desperately to think of anyone he'd ever met who could possibly have been Jesus. Nothing came. Absolutely nothing. "This is going to drive me batty," he griped.

Sam nodded, his own lips pursed in irritation. "Yeah. Cas, is there any way to know for certain when Dean met, well, ya know?"

Castiel tilted his head thoughtfully. "Yes. I believe there is." Without hesitation, and definitely without asking, the angel reached across the table and touched Dean's forehead with two extended fingers. Dean more than half expected to pass out or suddenly find himself in another time and place. Instead, he just sat there with Cas's fingers cool against the skin of his face. The server walked by on her way to the other table with a check, her eyebrows climbing when she saw their tableau. Dean grinned wryly at her and hoped they wouldn't get kicked out before he had a chance to eat his lasagna.

After what seemed like ages, but probably wasn't more than thirty seconds, Castiel withdrew his hand and fixed Dean with a reserved, tentative expression. "You were very young when you met the Christ," he said slowly. "It was night. Sam was only an infant. John stood nearby, holding Sam in his arms while speaking with a law enforcement officer. You were sitting on the hood of the Impala. A man wearing the guise of a firefighter came and sat beside you. He placed his arm around you, attempting to comfort you as you cried for your mother. He told you that, though it did not seem like it then, everything would be all right in the end. He reassured you that you were loved very much and that you would see you mother again one day, in Heaven."

Dean was poleaxed, all thoughts of his cooling lasagna forgotten, his appetite utterly gone. "That's not funny, Cas" he whispered when he could finally speak.

"It is not a joke. Do you not remember this man?"

Dean said nothing. He did remember, would never forget the firefighter who'd held him so tightly. It was the reason he'd wanted to be a firefighter when he was little. It was the reason he could dream of that night without screaming, the reason he could face open flame without flinching back in horror. Dean's eyes met Sam's across the table, and he saw that his brother was as stunned by all of this as he was.

"Why?" Dean said at last. "Why would Jesus appear to a four-year-old? Why?"

"I do not know, Dean. You will have to ask him yourself, when next you see him." The angel smiled ever so slightly, as if this wasn't the craziest thing he'd said yet.

Dean snorted. "I just might."

The End


End file.
